Green
by 9E-tan
Summary: The bittersweet irony that Red is both his destroyer and his sole link to society- the proof that he exists- has him in stitches. As he laughs, the red swelters and the green decays to brown- then he asks, he wonders- who was he?


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pokemon. On a side note, someone butchered Mewtwo.

**Genre:** Friendship/ Tragedy

**Pairing:** None

**A/N:** Slower than Slowpoke did this twisted little theory about Green and his Raticate hit me. Whoever came up with this theory has broken my childhood gloating over that damned rival and prevented me from studying for my exams.

* * *

Green

.

.

.

What is the taste of victory?

When he was young, it didn't matter. It was exciting, with adrenaline coursing through his blood, pounding against his head- all that mattered was crushing his rival. The golden rookie that seemed to best him at every shot.

"_Awww, you lucked out!"_

But he knew.

That golden rookie was different.

_Different from the start._

He'd be damned if deemed otherwise, because there was something about his rival whose efforts were met with success, while his burnt to the ground.

But it didn't matter back then- because green meant growth, green meant renewal, green meant hope.

_Then there was that incident on the cruise ship of S.S. Anne._

And he remembers- remembers so vividly- holding, clutching, that cold, cold, body- that lifeless body-

-and he shuddered, because the truth, the reality hits him with a brick force-

_This isn't green anymore._

It's red, it's crimson, and it bleeds and taints and torments-

-and he watches with sinking horror that the green becomes brown, decayed,_dying-_

_"Hey, Red! What brings you here? Is your Pokémon dead? Hey! It's alive! I can at least make them faint! Let's go!"_

_"What? You stinker! I took it easy on you, too!"_

Regret, and that question-

"_What did I do wrong?"__  
_  
But he had no time to stall, because everything had to, it _had_ to, after all of his efforts- come to an end. Not here- in the future- and so he burnt that part of his wound closed.

There was no time to find Green.

He wanted answers.

* * *

Five minutes in becoming the Pokemon League Champion. After all that time, at the age of ten- surely, -

_"Hey! I was looking forward to seeing you, Red! My rival should be strong to keep me sharp! While working on my Pokédex, I looked all over for powerful Pokémon! Not only that, I assembled teams that would beat any Pokémon type! And now! I am the Pokémon League Champion! Red! Do you know what that means? I'll tell you! I am the most powerful trainer in the world!"  
_  
_"NO! That can't be! You beat my best! After all that work to become League champion? My reign is over already? It's not fair!__Why? Why did I lose? I never made any mistakes raising my Pokémon… Damn it...!"_

Why indeed.

Part of him knew it was a petty form of self-defense. His pride. That Red was the most convenient to push his shame, his disappointment, stemming from his constant loss to his dream being crippled, that promise to his friend he could not keep, of the acknowledgement he wanted from his one and only living relative-

Because that time, while his grandfather lectured him on his blind ignorance-

_(another thing he had that Red didn't)_

-all that was in his head was how hypocritical his rival was, crushing anyone in his path- crushing countless dreams, hopes, wishes- when they marked him the power-hungry fool-

_Why were you the golden rookie?_

But Red shouldered Green's burden along with his own.

* * *

When Green is handed the title of the Gym Leader of Viridian City, previously refused by the reigning Pokemon League Champion- there's a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

_'Now does he feel/ His title hang loose about him;/ Like a giant's robe/ On a dwarfish thief'._

It wouldn't be the first time he feels like the sole reason for his existence is to be a basis of comparison for Red- his catalyst to become a greater being-

-but what about him? Didn't he count? What was he doing wrong-

-he'd grit his teeth and bury himself under mindless challenges, because he does not want to live in borrowed robes.

He was Green fucking Oak, and he lived under no one's shadow.

_Right?_

But still the small pieces of him crumbled away- what little he had left.

It doesn't come to him as a surprise when Red shows up at his doorstep. He's always been silent, but Green knows that look in his eye.

It's hollow, broken, and lost.

"Does your mom know?"

_Why do you have to leave?_

"How long…?"

_Stay here, you damned asshat. You're not the only one who wants to run away._

"I'll drop by periodically, then."

Those dull orbs of garnet are haunting.

"Don't give me that look. We're friends, dumbass."

His jaw cracks as he forces a crooked grin.

"Smell ya later, pal."

_Just how much farther are you going away from me?_

* * *

Everyone around him is scared, worried for Red.

Red, the reigning champion.

Red, the Pokemon master.

Red, the holder of 16 badges and consequent victor from the Elite Four.

Red

Red

Red

Red

_Red_

And Green is drowned out, with his futile cries-

_'What about Green?'_

What infuriates him is that he can't bring himself to hate his rival.

_Why?_

_Why do you keep yourself stuck in the past when you're my rival?_

_You bastard! Why do you care now?_

_Why do you care when it won't even matter?_

But that was a lie.

Because Red, Red knew.

Red, the silent. Red, the fighter. Red, his rival.

And Red- the only one who cared.

Then his piling duties as a Gym leader grew, while Red was off somewhere training in the harsh mountain summit, and that awkward, frigid gap between them only grew- grew further apart.

_If you're gone, who will remember Green?_

The bitter irony has him in stitches, and he gasps, grasping onto the edge of the Gym stadium, drowning in his tears and painful laughter.

But Time- time doesn't wait- and so the days pass into weeks, weeks into months, months into years-

Maybe fate was merciful- decided Green needed some time to find himself.

Until it decided to screw with his mind again, because who else appears in front of him but a spitting image of his past rival?

His name is Gold, for heaven's sake.

_Gold._

It echoes 'golden boy' and there's nothing more twisted, more ironically hilarious, about his loss in their match.

_"… All right, I was wrong. You're the real deal. You are a good trainer. But I'm going to beat you someday. Don't you forget it!"_

He finds it hard to believe that those exact words came from his mouth.

And harder to believe it still when news that Red had been defeated by Gold reaches his ears.

And hardest to believe when Red seemingly had vanished before the boy's eyes.

His rival had the nerve to die before their destined rematch.

_Was he no longer worthy enough to be a rival too?_

That's what he'd like to believe, because anything else is better to blame, than the part deep inside of him that tells him-

_"What would it matter?"__  
_  
He was never Green- he was always 'second best'.

* * *

"_This is my grandson. He's been your rival since you were a baby. …Erm, what is his name again?"_


End file.
